


Yellow Sunshine

by graceandfire



Series: Brightness Burns [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceandfire/pseuds/graceandfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She reminds Leonard of sunshine, her bright yellow skin tone and bubbling brook of a voice.   She’s a tiny thing, following him around the encampment, determined to assist him even though she’s some sort of minor princess of the T’Vharan ruling dynasty and—based on the disapproving gazes she garners from some of the lower born workers—is supposed to be above such things.  The T’Vharans are well behaved and useful long time subjects of the Terran Empire and, as such, are determined worthy of assistance when a plague starts decimating their people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reminder that the Mirror Universe is not a happy place. And this fic? Is angst.

She reminds Leonard of sunshine, her bright yellow skin tone and bubbling brook of a voice.   She’s a tiny thing, following him around the encampment, determined to assist him even though she’s some sort of minor princess of the T’Vharan ruling dynasty and—based on the disapproving gazes she garners from some of the lower born workers—is supposed to be above such things.  The T’Vharans are well behaved and useful long time subjects of the Terran Empire and, as such, are determined worthy of assistance when a plague starts decimating their people.   
  
After proving that “ _Godammnit_ Kirk, the plague has _zero_ fucking potential of jumping to Terrans or Vulcans,” Leonard gets permission to go down to the actual planet to work on the cure.  She shows up on the second day and she’s sweet and stubborn and she has a crush on him.  The crush is something Leonard doesn’t quite know how to handle because, Jesus, he’s old enough to be her father probably and she’s a _princess_ and even if he was interested he knows better than to tempt the wrath of Kirk.  So he treats her with gruff, fatherly kindness and ignores her shy glances and attempts at flirting, refusing to acknowledge that he goes a little red every time she does it.  She’s a quick learner and he teaches her some basics about general medical practice.  She’d make a good nurse or doctor.  Pity, really, that she’s high born and therefore destined to be useless according to the rules of her world.  
  
The day the tide turns and the plague is officially getting its ass kicked by modern medicine, Leonard realizes he hasn’t seen his little assistant for awhile.  He asks around and is pointed towards the elaborate tent that’s been set up for Kirk whenever he’s on the planet.  A low level of dread starts building up in Leonard’s system and his steps unconsciously quicken even though she’s _fine_ because Kirk doesn’t randomly hurt people except when he does but there’s no reason for Kirk to…  
  
He reaches the tent in time to see Kirk emerging from the entrance and his physician’s eyes try desperately not to identify the pastel pink T’Vharan blood slowly dripping off of the knife in Kirk’s hand.  It’s painting the grass below with tiny, delicate drops.  His gaze lifts up to meet Kirk’s calm expression and Leonard is probably the only person on the planet who can detect the residual rage that’s still lingering underneath.  
  
"She asked to _marry_ you.”  The statement’s offered with a hint of derisive incredulity as if to say ‘can you _believe_ she _did_ that?’  Like some fucking faux pas committed at a high society dinner party.  
  
Leonard watches Kirk turn and walk away and feels his breath turning to ice in his lungs—he should just beam back up to the ship, he shouldn’t go in there, don’tgo _can’t_ gointherehe—he swings the tent curtain to the side and walks in.  
  
He looks down at the still form, her blank eyes staring unseeing at the silk canvas top of the tent and Leonard feels something stop inside of him, just flicker out and die.    
  
She’s a minor princess.  Certainly not worth bringing the potential wrath of the Empire down on the T’Vharan people and the Council of Royal Ministers barely make a token protest at the ‘tragic yet accidental’ death.  Kirk decreases the ruling family’s tithing requirements by 0.5% for the following year as a noble gesture for their suffering and Leonard can see on the satisfied faces of some of the ministers that they think it’s well worth the bargain.  He spends his time obsessively scanning the faces of the other high born T’Vharans at the council, looking for traces of emotions beneath neutral masks, because surely _someone_ here is grieving for that sunshine girl besides himself.  
  
He’s not sure why it bothers him this much.  It shouldn’t.  He’s seen men and women and even kids killed before.  It’s not even the first time Kirk has killed someone for getting too close to his favorite fuck toy.  There had been that Security Crewman, Dubois, who’d gotten drunk and obnoxious with Leonard at the annual Founder’s party and…had taken a long time to die.  So Leonard’s not sure why this girl’s yellow ghost stubbornly keeps him company as he’s feted for finding the cure and as they head back to the ship at the conclusion of their ‘successful’ mission.  
  
Three nights later Leonard is in Kirk’s quarters on his knees.  The captain’s actually being pretty mellow tonight.  Not trying to push Leonard’s buttons or baiting him; just ordering a simple, straightforward blow job.  Leonard can do this.  Hell, he’s done it hundreds of times before.  He knows the length of Kirk’s dick, every sensitive spot, the exact amount of suction and teeth to use and how to swallow down without choking.  
  
He knows how to do this.   
  
The unrest in his stomach can be ignored and maybe Kirk will let him go early tonight since he’s even worse company than usual.  His emotions seem frozen in some sort of stasis field and Leonard vaguely realizes he hasn’t spoken a word since acknowledging Kirk’s demand for his presence earlier tonight.   
  
Kirk makes an encouraging grunt, oddly quiet himself tonight, the sound muffled and distant in Leonard’s ears.  Kirk’s getting close to release and he can do this, he can get through this and…he pulls off, scrabbling desperately away before voiding the contents of his stomach on the soft, antique carpet.  It doesn’t take long; Leonard’s not sure when he last choked down more than a bite or two of food at a time but he keeps gagging out a slow string of bile and, fuck, the thought flickers through his mind that Kirk might actually kill him for this and the thought that follows is wouldn't that be kind of nice to just stop; to not have to feel this…life.  
  
He’s waiting for the blow as he wipes the back of his hand against his mouth, absently noting the fine trembling as he brings his hand back down.  Perfect, he thinks absently, a surgeon with the shakes.  How fucking useful.  The expected blow from Kirk isn’t coming and he finally sits back up on his knees, feeling the protest of his wire tight neck and back muscles— _levator scapulae, simispinalis capitis, trapezius_ —the litany of familiar medical terms an automatic habit that’s failing to soothe.  When Leonard finally looks over at Kirk, he blinks because the man is holding a glass of water out to him.  Kirk’s still naked and still hard, supremely comfortable in his skin as always.  Leonard reaches for the glass automatically and tries a slow, cautious sip, the cool liquid soothing his ravaged throat and settling in his still roiling belly.  Jesus, he must really look bad if Kirk is being this careful with him.  
  
“You should have told me you’re not feeling well.”  Kirk's comment is studiedly neutral in tone.  “You should take the next couple shifts off.  Rest up.”   
  
Right, take the next couple shifts off…that’ll fix what’s broken inside of him.  That’ll…  
  
“McCoy.”  
  
Leonard realizes he hasn’t moved.  He’s not actually sure he _can_ stand up but there’s no way he can tell Kirk that so he finally manages to shove himself up and stand there, unsteady as a new born colt finding its legs.  He staggers in the direction of the door, avoiding the pool of his vomit and he reaches the entrance.  He’s pausing as the door slides smoothly open when Kirk speaks up from behind him.  
  
“Why does it matter so much?”  
  
Kirk’s tone is genuinely puzzled and Leonard tries to come up with a response but stays silent because he doesn’t _know_.  People die all the time and ‘she reminded me of sunshine’ will probably get him locked up for being mentally defective.  
  
Finally, he hears a huff from Kirk.  “Fine, next time someone wants to marry you I won’t actually kill them.”  
  
It’s almost an annoyed tone, sort of like ‘well, _fuck,_ if you’re really going to make _that_ big a deal about it’ but there’s a hint of something careful underneath.  
  
Leonard stays frozen by the open door, trying to figure out how he feels.  Hysterical might kinda cover it and, yeah, he’s pretty sure that’s hysterical laughter trying to force its way free because, _Jesus_ , that’s tantamount to a James T. Kirk _apology._ An offer of truce and how the hell does he react to that?  And the thought of a next time when he’s still so raw—don’t think about her, sun beam face and vacant eyes, don'tfuckfuck _fuck_ —will probably shatter his stress-fractured soul into something unrecognizable.    
  
Leonard realizes Kirk’s waiting with unusual patience for some kind of acknowledgement and he finally glances back and manages a nod.  Some of his suppressed hysteria must be leaking through because Kirk gives him a weird sort of searching look but then nods back decisively and Leonard walks out—escapes—feeling the heat of Kirk’s gaze on his back even corridors away.   
  
Leonard stops at some point and finds himself leaning back against a random wall, gazing into nothing.  He’s not sure how long he stands there before he becomes aware of the funny looks from crewmembers passing by.  No one approaches him.  They’re all aware of what happened on T’Vhara and apparently they’re all stepping lightly around Leonard right now in case the Captain decides they’ve sneezed too close to Leonard's personal space or some shit and deserve decapitation.  
  
Finally he pushes off from the wall and heads back down to Sickbay for the distraction of work, ignoring Kirk’s order of rest because, fuck, what else is there to do but work?  He can’t stop moving, can’t let himself think too hard, and he certainly can’t _end_ himself despite that momentary, desperately sincere wish back in Kirk’s quarters.  Even if he isn’t too stupidly stubborn to take that final escape, he can't leave Joanna alone in a universe where princesses get their throats slit for having inappropriate crushes.  
  
And so the only other option left is to keep moving, keep putting one foot in front of the other, and try to pretend that he's whole.  
  
It’s eighteen days later when Leonard meets a stubborn stranger wearing Kirk’s face.  
  
He reminds Leonard of sunshine too.

 


End file.
